Superheroes
by Wolf and Phoenix
Summary: He's been beaten, battered, and dragged through the mud. So when his magic takes him away to an alternate dimension, Harry finds himself in the midst of another war. A war in a dimension that is a reminder of what could have been, had certain people made different choices. The side Harry chooses may not be led by the one he expects...and all the while, he's looking for a way home.
1. Travelling Dimensions

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't be here, would I?

Parseltongue: " ** _ss"_**

* * *

They were losing.

A tall, dark-haired man stood at a window, watching the blood red sunset. _Perhaps it is an omen, one that does not bode well for my side_ , he thought. He shook his head. He didn't believe in Divination, even though it was a prophecy that started this war. Fate could not be predicted - it was what a person did, that determined their future.

At least, that's what had applied to him. By all rights, he should be a murdering kleptomaniac, but here he was, fighting for what was right. A _hero,_ in the eyes of his supporters.

How much longer would it be, he wondered, before his supporters started dying off one by one? When - not if - he was the only one left standing?

It was easier to fight one ingenious man. Yet he was fighting two. Two men who shared the same ideals, plans, and, in this war, side. Two men who had decades more of experience and knowledge. Two men who were powerful and master manipulators.

There was no point in pondering useless, dismal, disheartening _facts_. He knew that - it was foolish to do so. Besides, he was analyzing the truth, which could not be changed nor influenced.

There was simply _no point._

No matter how much he wished there was. War made people long for the simple comforts, the almost-necessities of ordinary life. In another lifetime, perhaps, he could have wished and it would have come true by hard work and ambition. But this lifetime? Wishes were made by the foolish and the dreamers. Realists, like himself, would realize that nothing would ever be the same after this war. The world as they knew it, would change.

It was only a matter of time.

 _A pale man lying on the ground, flesh burnt by the wrath of love, life taken by the specter of evil._

" _Kill the spare."_ _A swish of a wand, a flash of blinding green light, the soft thump of a body hitting the ground._

 _A handsome male falling in slow motion into a spectral fabric, never to be seen again._

" _Neither can live while the other survives."_

Bright green eyes snapped open, the intense colour appearing to almost glow in the darkness of the room, inside the house of Number Four, Privet Drive. Harry blinked forcefully as he stared up at the blurry ceiling, dispelling the burning feeling behind his eyes - what was the point in tears, anyway, if the minute drops of water couldn't bring back a life? But he couldn't do anything about the choking feeling rising in his throat, the flames of guilt licking at his heart.

 _Sleep is overrated,_ he thought sourly, the missing hours of sleep suddenly catching up to him. It hit him like a ton of bricks, rendering him fatigued and in a terrible mood. _It's certainly not the restful, rejuvenating period everyone says you need. It's either nightmares or Voldemort breaking into my head. Honestly, he says I'm not much of a challenge to him, and if I'm not, what's the harm in letting me_ sleep _?_

It was mid July, two weeks into summer break, and he had barely slept. He was exhausted, the signs showing in the dark circles under his eyes and the paleness of his skin even though he spent most of his time outside doing chores for the Dursleys. The Order, it seemed, couldn't really care less as long as he was appearing fed and watered. So what if he looked tired? Maybe he was still grieving for his godfather, they would reason. And Dumbledore - Harry didn't really want much to do with him at the moment. Maybe, if he had known about the prophecy beforehand, he would have figured out that Voldemort was trying to get to it...and Sirius would still be alive. Maybe Harry would have spent more time learning Occlumency. Perhaps Harry would have gotten extra defence lessons or something during the summer breaks to help him stay alive.

A spike of pain in his scar made him lose his train of thought, something he was oddly grateful for. Absentmindedly rubbing it, the teen thought, _Voldemort's mood swings are as crazy as a teenager's. And exactly who is the teenager between the two of us?_ Rolling over on the bed, he glanced at the fuzzy bright digits that indicated what the time was. _3:45. Great, Voldemort's turning me into an insomniac._

With a quiet sigh that betrayed the weight on his shoulders, he closed his eyes, determined to get some semblance of sleep, lest the Order come calling and stir up a ruckus with the Dursleys. As if they needed any more ammunition to hate him.

The sound of an owl hooting loudly and urgently threw all notions of sleep out the window. Harry cracked his eyes open, shooting a questioning glance at Hedwig.

"What's going on, girl?" He asked softly, snatching his glasses off the nightstand and slipping out of bed. Hedwig's large amber eyes blinked and her head tilted to the window. The Boy-Who-Lived spared a glance outside, and did a double take.

 _Mr Weasley? What's he doing here?_

For a moment (a moment of insanity, but he'll never admit that), he amused himself, imagining all kinds of different scenarios.

" _Harry, I'm afraid that Voldemort has gone on vacation, putting the war on hold so you can focus on your N.E.W.T.s. He sent you a postcard; Dumbledore told me to give it to you."_

" _I don't know how to say this, Harry, but Fudge has been sent a greeting card from Voldemort."_

" _Harry, Voldemort's been turned into a rainbow unicorn and Professor Snape is his mate - thought you should know."_

He stopped his thoughts from going any further after the last one, shuddering at the mental image.

The doorbell, curiously, didn't ring once Mr Weasley had reached the door. Instead, Harry heard the sound of the floor creaking and the soft _snick_ of (what he thought) was the door closing. Suspicion arose, triggering a flurry of movement - snatching his wand from his nightstand and scratching a quick letter on a scrap piece of parchment, all while being as silent as a mouse. He approached Hedwig's cage, anxiety rising with a small dose of fear.

Unlatching the rusting latch, he stroked her feathers and quietly murmured, "Take this to Steelclaw at Gringotts." Catching her inquisitive look, he defended, "It's not that I don't trust Mr Weasley, Hedwig. I'm just cautious, is all."

A slight bob of her head. Her beak clamped down on the folded up parchment in his hand and the snowy owl soared out the window. Harry watched her fly away, green eyes wistful.

The disaster at the Department of Mysteries had opened his eyes, so to speak, and he realized how stupid and foolhardy he was. Lulled into a false sense of invincibility, he was sharply reminded of his mortality as he had faced death once more. Spurred into action, he had reached out to Gringotts, bargaining with the goblins to ensure that they stayed neutral in the upcoming war. It wasn't much, but goblins were fierce warriors.

He was jerked out of his thoughts as Mr Weasley called out softly from downstairs, "Harry?"

Harry moved through the house silently, his wand in his hand. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he caught sight of the silhouette of the Weasley male.

"Mr Weasley, what are you doing here?" Harry asked, watching the redhead carefully.

"Dumbledore said you are in danger, Harry. He sent me to pick you up and you'll spend the rest of the summer at the Burrow," Mr Weasley quickly explained. "Go and pack your things, the Portkey's scheduled to leave in ten minutes."

Numbly, Harry did as he was told. Somewhere in between throwing socks and books into his trunk, he wondered, _Dumbledore had said I would be safe here. Why would he pull me out and say I was in danger? It doesn't make sense._ But he shook his head and continued packing. There was a small niggling thought of, _What if this is a trap? What if he isn't actually Mr Weasley?_

Minutes later, he dragged his trunk down the stairs and stopped a few feet away from the adult redhead. "Mr Weasley, may I ask a question?"

A smile. "Of course, Harry."

"What did you ask for when you were being treated for your injuries this past year?" Harry questioned, a hand closing on his wand. _Is that something a Death Eater would know? They're all purebloods, I think._

Mr Weasley blinked. "Why, er, stitches. Why do you ask, Harry?"

"Nothing, Mr Weasley. Just wanted to make sure." His hand relaxed. _It's him._

"Well, leave your trunk, I'll take it after you leave." At this, he thrust an empty soda can at Harry. "Here, it leaves in fifteen seconds."

The soda can was cold and smooth underneath his fingers. He barely had a moment to realize it was a Sprite can, before he felt a jerk at his navel and his relatives' house disappeared.

And he reappeared in a dark room, seemingly empty but full of movement at the same time. His senses picked up a swishing of cloaks, and then the shadows didn't seem like mere shadows anymore.

 _This is not the Burrow._

"Welcome, Harry Potter," an eerily familiar voice hissed behind him. Harry whirled around, his wand in his hand. His green eyes squarely met the red, serpentine eyes of Lord Voldemort.

Voldemort laughed, a high, cold sound that chilled Harry to the bone. "So it seems," he murmured, "that a little Boy-Who-Lived lost his way."

"You mean, I was fed a story and then was brought here," Harry snarled. It wasn't enough that Voldemort had taken Sirius away from him, it wasn't enough that Voldemort could get in his head, it wasn't enough that he, Harry, had to kill Voldemort or be killed - _no,_ Voldemort had to go and do this too.

Voldemort's eyes flashed, his dangerous playful manner gone. "Schematics, dear Harry. I do hope no one was expecting you."

"You know very well that no one was expecting me!" Harry hissed, as anger and frustration and a tiny dose of _whatishegoingtodotome_ rose within him.

"What a shame," Voldemort drawled, "that the Wizarding World's savior is so...irrelevant."

Harry remained silent, his features twisted into a furious scowl.

Voldemort went on, "Think about it, Harry. Even Dumbledore's famed Order of the Phoenix could not keep you safe from me. They didn't _care._ I've also heard that the wizarding public is...quite strongly opinionated about you." A fearsome smile formed on his lips. "' _Liar, crazy, attention-seeking_ …' My, aren't those compliments, wouldn't you agree?"

 _It's not true._ "I think they said them to the wrong person," Harry snapped. "They seem to suit you well." Instantly, he knew he made a mistake.

"It seems you have forgotten your manners," Voldemort snarled, raising his wand. " _Crucio!_ "

Harry saw the spell coming, but it was so close-range that he only moved an inch before he was struck by the curse. Pain and agony flooded his senses, his nerves shrieking for the torture to stop. He bit down hard on his bottom lip to stop himself from screaming, and tasted blood.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Voldemort released the spell. Panting, Harry staggered to his feet and gripped his wand.

"You're lucky I'm merciful," Voldemort hissed. "Next time, I cannot promise such a thing." A flick of his wand, and Harry's wand flew into the Dark Lord's hand. "Nott, Mulciber, take him to a room."

Desperation and fear clawed at his heart, but the two Death Eaters were stronger than him and dragged him into a dark room with a mattress. Nothing that he would be able to use to escape or attack. Nott and Mulciber silently left, locking the door behind them.

In complete and utter darkness and with only silence as his friend, Harry collapsed onto the bed.

* * *

" _What does the prophecy say?"_ Voldemort snarled.

Harry slowly lifted his head, his mouth twisted in a ferocious scowl. "Like I'll ever tell you."

"A pity. Your parents would have wanted you to say it, so you wouldn't have to suffer," Voldemort murmured. "No matter. We shall try again tomorrow."

"My parents are _dead._ You, of all people, wouldn't know what they would have wanted because you killed them," Harry growled. He could hear his blood dripping onto the ground, the steady _drip drip_ of the ruby life-giving liquid. Pain had become a constant in his stay here at Voldemort's base, his thin silver scars a reminder of each day. _Seven a day. Most, if not all, heal completely, the rest don't. Too many to count. After all, Voldemort doesn't want the Boy-Who-Lived getting too many battle scars, too much credit._

"Wouldn't you like to join them?" Voldemort softly asked. "Wouldn't you like to see them, get to know them, feel loved by them? All you would have to do is say a few words, Harry."

Harry felt himself wavering. Get to know his parents? Feel loved by them? Be able to savour a hug, a kiss, a shoulder slap? _Besides,_ Harry thought, _no one's coming to get me. No one cares about me - Voldemort proved that. It would be so easy just to tell him, and then the pain will go away. And I'll be with my parents._

He tamped down on those traitorous thoughts. _No. I didn't survive this long to just give up. My parents will just have to wait a little longer._

"And let you break apart other families?" Harry snapped. "Stop trying, Voldemort, you're not going to break me."

A flash of anger in those scarlet eyes. "Very well. For your sake, hope that you'll give in tomorrow. Bellatrix seems quite eager to have her turn."

And then he was gone, the ropes holding his hostage in place falling limply to the ground. But Harry didn't notice, for he went rigid with anger and fear. Sirius' killer, coming to torture him.

 _A godfather falling through a veil… No._

The world seemed to find it fun to throw these kind of things to him. Harry hissed as he shifted, his wounds stretching and letting more precious red liquid drip spill. If it weren't for a Death Eater coming in each day to clean his clothes, he was pretty sure this room would smell rancid.

The pain from various torture methods was almost nonexistent, now. If Voldemort knew that Harry's pain tolerance became greater each day, he would stop the sessions. But a greater pain tolerance meant nothing if Harry couldn't eat, couldn't bandage his wounds. He would die very soon, he knew. Prophecy be damned, starvation and blood loss would kill him first.

It seemed like only a few short agonizing hours had passed when the door opened again. Harry was still in the wooden torture chair, because he didn't have enough strength to limp over to the mattress on the other side of the room. _Something Voldemort made sure of, I'm sure._

"Look who's here - oh, little Potter!" A familiar, chilling voice cackled.

Harry's heart froze. _Bellatrix Lestrange._

"My Lord tells me that I'm free to have my fun," Bellatrix smirked. "Unless you're willing to talk, Harry…"

"Go to hell," Harry snarled. Immediately, he felt a searing pain in his chest, in his eyes, in his ears, and he was vaguely aware of someone screaming, and him convulsing, for the pain was too great.

A year must have passed before it all stopped, and he realized it was him who was screaming.

"Your screams are music to my ears, baby Harry," Bellatrix maniacally grinned. "But I don't think I've heard enough."

Before Harry could do or say anything, the agony coursed through his veins, ripping apart each and every nerve end. His screams went on longer this time, echoing off the walls of the room, taunting him with their unearthly sounds. But then he couldn't scream anymore, because his voice failed him, and then he was digging his fingers into the chair, feeling the wood cracking apart beneath his fingertips, feeling his glasses shatter and embed themselves into his skin, feeling his body hitting the floor, _makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop_ , tasting blood in his mouth, smelling smoke and ashes.

It only ceased when all he could see was black.

Then he was falling.

* * *

" _ **Wake up, Harry. I didn't even drag you to Zetai."**_

Harry groaned as he heard a voice hissing at his ear. " _ **Go away."**_

" _ **I don't think so."**_

The Boy-Who-Lived slowly sat up, blinking at the darkness of the forest - _hang on, a forest?_ Memories started rushing back to him, of Voldemort, of Bellatrix, of horrific pain, of smoke and ashes…

Instinctively, he catalogued his injuries, wincing at the aching pain in his body, a whisper of the torture he had undergone.

He felt coils against his leg and looked down to see a Quetzalcoatl watching him. Its aqua-blue, light jade green and dusky orange scales, along with purple-red wings, made a stunning sight.

" _ **Who are you? And how do you know my name?"**_ Harry asked, belatedly realizing he was speaking in Parseltongue.

" _ **I am called Aetas, a male, and I'm your familiar."**_

" _ **Familiar?"**_

" _ **Much like how your Dumbledore has Fawkes,"**_ Aetas offered as a way of explanation.

" _ **Er, okay. But how did I get here?"**_ Harry then realized the use of 'your' and asked, " _ **And what do you mean by 'your Dumbledore'?"**_

" _ **You got here by yourself. I just helped you along so you wouldn't die. As for where we are...we're in a different dimension than the one you were born in. Hence, 'your Dumbledore'."**_

Harry blinked in shock. A different dimension? How the hell did he manage to get himself here? And how would he get back to his own? He found himself panicking, millions of _what if_ s streaming through his head, each one tugging him further into a dark abyss of thoughts. Eventually, he forced out a question, hanging onto it like a lifeline.

" _ **How - how do I get back?"**_

At this, Aetas' eyes became somber. " _ **I have no idea."**_

Harry's head spun, trying to take in this new information. Was he stuck here forever? Could he never see his friends again? Would they even know he was gone? Would he cease to exist in their world? _Hold up, Harry,_ he chided himself. _One thing at a time._ He breathed in and out slowly, attempting to calm himself down. For one thing, he had been taken by Voldemort, so it was possible they knew he was missing.

 _But they didn't come for you, did they?_ A small, traitorous voice hissed. Harry pushed it away with force, locking it up in a small portion of his head.

" _ **How do you know about my Dumbledore?"**_

" _ **When you got yourself here, I saw your memories, your past, like a true familiar would have experienced. Obviously, I'm not supposed to be your familiar in your dimension, but I am here."**_

Harry nodded. That made sense. If he admitted it to himself, anything would make sense at this point. " _ **So I'm assuming that things are different here?"**_

" _ **Understatement of the century,"**_ Aetas snorted. " _ **But I don't even know any of it. You see, when you came into existence here, I was only alive for a few months. Not enough time to learn history. Time passes at the same speed here than in your dimension, by the way."**_

" _ **You're pretty large already,"**_ Harry noted, eyeing the snake. He chose to focus on the smaller things; maybe that will help ease him into the 'alternate dimension' idea.

" _ **Humans,"**_ Aetas said derisively, " _ **among the slowest of them all, yet still thinking they are faster than all."**_

Harry wasn't quite sure what to say to that, so he searched for another question. " _ **Where is this forest?"**_

" _ **I'm supposed to know? I haven't even flown yet, let alone left my home,"**_ Aetas said. Then, in an undertone, " _ **Humans."**_

" _ **Sorry. Have you exceeded your capacity for human interaction, or something?"**_ Harry innocently asked.

" _ **Shut up."**_

Harry laughed for the first time in _daysmonthsweeksyears_ and grinned at the annoyed Quetzalcoatl. " _ **I hate to tell you this, but you're kind of stuck with a human."**_

" _ **And a sarcastic one at that,"**_ Aetas grumbled.

" _ **That's like the pot calling the kettle black,"**_ Harry retorted.

Aetas tilted his head, tongue flickering out. " _ **I taste blood. Yours. It wasn't so strong before."**_ The winged snake narrowed his eyes. " _ **What in the world happened to you?"**_

Harry winced. " _ **It's nothing, really, just a few cuts here and there."**_ He didn't remember much of his torture sessions, anyway, because they all seemed to meld together. He couldn't tell which day was which, and it didn't matter - all that mattered was that each day contained pain and questioning.

" _ **And I thought humans at least had a sense of preservation,"**_ Aetas hissed. " _ **You're going to bleed out."**_

Harry shot a wry look at his familiar. " _ **I hadn't noticed."**_ But underneath the sarcasm, he felt a tinge of fear. How was he going to get out of this forest and somehow obtain treatment? He didn't know anything about this dimension - Aetas implied that things were very different, and he couldn't go out and say he was Harry Potter, because he didn't know what response that would invoke.

" _ **Aetas, do you happen to know if I existed in this dimension?"**_ Harry asked carefully.

The snake tilted his head thoughtfully. " _ **No, I do not."**_ Then, as if sensing Harry's distress, he added, " _ **I could find out, from other snakes, once you've tended to your wounds."**_

Harry was just about to respond, when he remembered the hundreds of scars he bore from his time in captivity. Suddenly, it all came crashing down on him; he was marked, permanently, by Voldemort. He would be reminded daily of the torture he'd gone through by his scars. He had disappeared from an entire dimension and ended up in an alternate dimension. He didn't even know if he could make it back. He didn't know if there was a war here, if he had an alternate him running around.

He didn't know _anything._ Didn't know if anyone cared for him, because Voldemort destroyed that. Didn't know if he would survive here, let alone make it back to his own dimension. And there was no one here to help, aside from Aetas.

He was vaguely aware of Aetas calling to him, and he clutched onto that hissing voice to drag him out of his spiral down to darkness. " _ **Harry. Harry!"**_

Finally pulled out of his thoughts, he weakly smiled at his familiar. " _ **Sorry, Aetas. I sort of drifted off."**_

" _ **Don't lie to me, Harry. Our familiar bond allows us to send fragments of pictures through it, letting both of us see what the other sees. When you felt that turmoil, I know what happened, what you were thinking of."**_ Aetas' voice softened. " _ **You'll get through it. Torture is not to be taken lightly, and Voldemort never had the right to mark you with scars. No one does. Regardless of my being your familiar, I can't force you to look at those markings with something other than disgust. But just remember that you managed to get through the ordeal because you didn't break."**_

Harry nodded his head, whispers of pain shooting through him as if to remind him of how he had been tricked. It had been his fault, really, that he had been tortured. There was no one else to blame it on.

" _ **You're doing it again, Harry. It wasn't your fault."**_

" _ **Then whose was it? I was the one who took the Portkey."**_ Harry realized, as he was speaking, that something was wrong with his story. The epiphany hit him so hard it left him gasping, praying that he wasn't right. " _ **You think it's Dumbledore's fault."**_

" _ **Why do you think that?"**_ Aetas gently asked.

" _ **Because...because he put up wards, and they didn't - didn't protect me like he said it would."**_ The world seemed to have been pulled out from under his feet. Dumbledore couldn't have failed. He couldn't have. The grandfatherly figure simply couldn't have failed in protecting the boy he had taken under his wing. _Ah, but he didn't seem to want to have anything to do with you last year, did he?_ A voice nastily asked.

" _ **He said I would be safe. That I would be okay. But**_ _..._ _ **he broke his promise. He failed me."**_ Harry's voice shook as a lone tear slowly slid down his face _ **.**_

" _ **You have to remember, Harry, that he's only human, even though he seems superhuman and infallible. He has flaws, like everyone else does. You cannot solely depend on one person to keep yourself safe."**_

" _ **I know. That doesn't mean...Did he even try?"**_ The words began spilling out of him like a crashing waterfall. The doubt, the insecurities that he had hidden during his captivity overwhelmed him. " _ **I was there for days, weeks, months, maybe years - long enough that I couldn't keep track of time. Did he even know?"**_ Then, quietly, he asked with a childlike innocence, " _ **Does he even care?"**_

The Quetzalcoatl replied, equally quietly, " _ **That's up to you to determine."**_

" _ **I just - I can't - I don't know. Someone caring for me is so foreign. And I - I don't think I can trust him, Aetas. Not anymore. Even though it was me who took the Portkey."**_

" _ **These wards he speaks of, they should not allow a Death Eater onto the property. It was your safety in his hands, and he didn't ensure it."**_

" _ **I know, but - I should have known better."**_ He was wavering between blaming himself or Dumbledore. He knew, as Aetas was an impartial viewer of his memories, that the winged snake was probably right. " _ **Even though he held my porcelain trust and broke it, I was the one that wasn't cautious enough."**_

" _ **Dumbledore wronged you, Harry, whether he knows it or not. That's not your fault."**_

"Indeed, it's his failing, Mr Potter, not yours," a smooth, charismatic voice interjected.

Harry whipped around, ignoring the sudden flares of pain, his body instinctively covering the Quetzalcoatl.

And met the eyes of an adult Tom Riddle Jr.

* * *

Aetas - Latin for age, time.

A/N: So there it is, the first chapter. Hope you enjoyed it! Review if you like, they'll certainly help me out.

~Wolf and Phoenix


	2. The Story of the War

Disclaimer: Now why on earth would you think I'd own Harry Potter? Of course I don't.

* * *

Harry scrambled back in shock, his body loudly protesting. _There's no way; how is he here? Is this Voldemort before he underwent the transformation? How did he even find me?_ Somewhere beneath all of the frenzied questions, a small sprinkle of fear clouded his mind. Would this Voldemort be inclined to torture him too? Unconsciously, the Boy-Who-Lived shrank into himself, wary green eyes watching the tall, handsome man assess him.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Mr Potter," Volde - the Dark Lo - Tom Riddle said gently.

 _So Harry Potter did exist here._ Despite himself, Harry frowned in disbelief. Voldemort being cordial to his enemy? How...absurd. He glanced at Aetas, who was tense and ready to strike. Images assaulted his mind, ones of alternate dimensions and Voldemort and Tom Riddle. He understood, then - this wasn't necessarily the same Tom Riddle as was in his home dimension, like he had assumed. He had thought that the conditions would be different, but that his role was the same; clearly, this was not the case. _Foolish,_ Harry berated himself, _for thinking that this Tom Riddle was one and the same as Voldemort._ In his momentary shock and fear, he had forgotten the things that Aetas had told him.

"Would you like to explain how you got here?" Tom Riddle asked, keeping his movements slow and non-threatening as he leaned against the trunk of a tree.

"I - I don't know." Harry said truthfully, adding, "Sir."

"Please, Mr Potter, it's Tom. Or Professor Riddle. 'Sir' makes me feel older than I should be," Riddle corrected, a teasing glint in his dark eyes. Harry blinked at the odd sight, feeling as though he was dreaming a ridiculous dream.

"Right," Harry nodded. Aetas, having seen there was no danger, coiled up next to Harry's leg.

"Do you remember what happened before you came here?" Riddle inquired, his eyes flicking over Harry's numerous injuries.

Harry's mind stuttered to a halt. What was he supposed to say? What would give away the fact that he wasn't this dimension's Harry Potter? "I - I would prefer not to say, Professor."

The taller man's eyes flashed. "So Dumbledore is the cause, then."

Immediately, Harry snapped, "Professor Dumbledore wouldn't do anything to me." He pushed away the small voices that taunted, _He didn't come to rescue you, did he?_ And _He didn't seem to care last year._ And _He left you defenseless, blinded by your trust in him, and where did that leave you?_ Dumbledore might not be the same Dumbledore here, he sharply reminded himself. They are two different people, even though they exist under the same name.

If anything, that seemed to validate Riddle's conclusion. "I don't believe that's the case, Mr Potter. However, I shall not press you further." He straightened. "You'd like a place to stay, I presume. Come, you can stay in my lodgings."

 _Stay with Tom Riddle? He seems all right, I suppose, but how much of that was a ruse? What if this is a trap?_ Harry's mind was whirling as he struggled to stand, lightheaded and dizzy from blood loss. _And Dumbledore - how different is he in this dimension? Why would Riddle believe that Dumbledore was the cause of my injuries? Riddle doesn't seem terribly inclined to like him, but that was also true in my dimension; what are his reasons? Surely not blood purity or anything like that, because Riddle seems to have accepted his birth name...and Voldemort doesn't exist._

Branches tugged at his clothes as he moved lethargically, leaves whispering on the ground behind him. Harry kept his eyes on Riddle's retreating back, warily scanning the forest for any kind of ambush. Aetas slithered ahead of Harry, occasionally flicking his tongue out and tasting the air. Both were on edge, wary of Riddle's motives.

Eventually, the forest thinned and light began streaming through the trees, the warm sunlight a welcome sight to Harry, who hadn't seen the light of day for _daysweeksmonthsyears._ He winced a little at the brightness, eyes still used to the darkness, and unconsciously moved to push his glasses up his nose.

Only to find his fingers snatching thin air.

Mystified and confused, he stared at the forest around him with awe. Everything was clear and sharp, much like when he was wearing glasses. What had happened?

Mentally filing it away to ponder later, he slowly picked his way out of the forest and into a large, open field. Riddle had stopped, patiently waiting for Harry to catch up to him.

"You're going to have to come with me as I key you into the wards," Riddle instructed, and handed Harry a piece of paper. "Also, memorize that."

Harry looked at the paper, the spindly letters spelling out, _Anguis Castle is located at Slytherin's Rock, England._ He handed it back, watching as Riddle set it alight and vanished the ashes. A castle, not unlike Hogwarts in nature, formed in front of his eyes, graceful turrets reaching into the sky, walls alive with magic and mystery. Harry blinked at the sheer size of the castle, trailing after Riddle as he stared.

"You're keyed in," Riddle said, breaking Harry's reverie. "I assume you know your way around Hogwarts?" At Harry's hesitant nod, because he wasn't sure if Hogwarts was the same Hogwarts, Riddle went on, "Then you'll have no problem finding your way around. This castle was built almost exactly to the same floor plan Hogwarts was. You won't be staying in the dormitories, but you'll have a room set aside for you where the Chamber of Secrets is."

Harry mutely nodded. "Thank you."

"I'll take you to our Healer, so she can attend to your wounds." Riddle swept into the castle, Harry attempting to follow him with less grace. Aetas simply slithered along, offering support.

The castle was almost exactly like Hogwarts. It comforted Harry, seeing something so familiar after being dealt a hand of unfamiliar things. Yet there seemed to be a sense of urgency, a sense of defeat in the castle walls, and he couldn't understand why. Why there seemed to be the lingering aura of death and desperation, of a small dose of fear. Not fear for one's self, but fear for the world, for the future.

* * *

"Harry Potter, sir!" A squeaky voice piped up next to him. Harry jerked awake, his injuries protesting the action despite the soft bed he was on, and glanced at the excitable house elf - Feta, she'd introduced herself as.

"Professor Riddle would like to see you's in his office, sir," Feta relayed once she saw that Harry was sufficiently awake.

"Thanks, Feta." At this, the house elf popped away and left a breakfast tray in her wake. Harry sighed. Riddle would most likely want to ask how Harry had escaped from where ever Riddle thought Harry had escaped from. Probably Dumbledore, if yesterday's reaction was any indication.

And that was a pressing issue - where did Riddle's loyalties lay? For that matter, where did Dumbledore's loyalties lay? Who was the Harry in this universe? Did he believe in Dumbledore's cause, whatever that may be? Judging by Riddle's reaction, this-dimension Harry probably did. Was that a good thing? Surely, Dumbledore couldn't be evil or a dark wizard - could he?

These thoughts occupied Harry's mind as he methodically ran through his morning routine. Who to ask about these things? Most likely, people expected him to know these things; especially if he had lived under Dumbledore's word.

" _ **Humans, always so noisy,"**_ Aetas hissed, disgruntled, as Harry stepped into the main area of his quarters. " _ **Waking up others at the crack of dawn, for basilisk's sake!"**_

Harry raised an amused eyebrow. " _ **It's ten o'clock."**_

" _ **If I recall correctly, you didn't sleep until five in the morning,"**_ Aetas retorted, uncoiling himself.

" _ **I've been thrown into an alternate dimension and you expect me to have a specific bedtime?"**_ Harry asked sarcastically.

" _ **It would have been nice, yes,"**_ Aetas muttered, trailing after Harry as he stepped out into the corridor.

" _ **Your capacity for human interaction seems a bit skewed this morning,"**_ Harry commented as offhandedly as he could.

" _ **Perhaps it is the insufferable human companion."**_ Aetas ruffled his wings.

" _ **Hey!"**_

" _ **Ah, but you do not deny it."**_

Harry sputtered and glared at the Quetzalcoatl, who was smugly slithering beside him.

The rest of the trip to the Headmast - Professor Riddle's office was spent in silence, the only sound being Harry's quiet footsteps and Aetas' scales skimming the ground. Curiously, the gargoyle that guarded the entrance in Harry's dimension wasn't there. Instead, it was a coiled stone snake, its eyes warily watching Harry as he approached. Unsure of what to do next, Harry glanced at Aetas, who was equally unsure.

" _ **Perhaps you need a password?"**_ Aetas suggested. " _ **Like the office in your memories?"**_ The snake tactfully used 'memories' instead of 'dimension' for fear of anyone overhearing. After all, it could be disastrous if someone were to find out about Harry travelling dimensions. Aetas was pretty sure that there was a rule written in the stars about a dimension traveller being forbidden to talk about one's own dimension, aside from a familiar, of course, and had said so to Harry. Harry, for one, didn't question why Aetas thought there was a rule in the stars; he thought it must be a Quetzalcoatl thing.

" _ **Feta -"**_ Harry began, but the snake suddenly opened its jaws, wider and wider and wider, until it formed a doorway large enough for someone to step through. Slight disbelief at the fact that the password was 'Feta', since he had only said it to reference the house elf, flooded through him. Harry picked up Aetas, despite the snake's protests, and stepped onto the moving staircase beyond.

Aetas quelled his words as soon as the stone snake snapped its jaws shut. It wouldn't have been particularly pleasant to ride the moving staircase as a snake, he conceded, coiling around Harry's arm in silent thanks. Eventually, they reached the top, and Harry stepped off to knock on the door.

"Enter," Riddle instructed.

Harry opened the door and took in the unfamiliar surroundings. Dumbledore's office had been cluttered, in a way, full of books and papers and whimsical silver instruments. Riddle's office, it seemed, was the complete opposite. The office was neat and ordered, with drawers and shelves carefully stacked at the walls. Perhaps the only similarities between the two offices was the number of books on the shelves and the Pensieve tucked away in an open cabinet.

"Please sit, Mr Potter." Riddle gestured to the chair in front of him. Harry hesitantly took a seat, Aetas coiling more securely around his arm.

"I hope your room is satisfactory?" Riddle asked casually.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, it is, Professor. Thanks."

"Good." A pause. Harry briefly noted that Riddle didn't like to fill in silences with small talk if he didn't have to, unlike Dumbledore. "I will admit I did not stem the bleeding from your wounds yesterday because I wasn't sure if you were a spy. I cannot apologize for that. Speaking of which, you may be wondering why I haven't tested you to ensure you aren't a spy." _He also doesn't dance around the subject, either._

If Harry admitted it to himself, the thought had surfaced, but was pushed aside in favour of more pressing matters. Now, however, he was beginning to wonder if Riddle was actually going to make him undergo some test (of which he was pretty sure was painful) to determine whether or not he was a spy for Dumbledore.

"The thought had crossed my mind, Professor," Harry confirmed nervously.

"You're not. If you were, you wouldn't have been accepted into this castle because of the sentient magic."

 _What a delightful explanation. Look at how straightforward, how simple it is._ Harry sarcastically thought.

"Er, right," was all Harry managed to say without expressing sarcasm.

Riddle's eyes glinted with a hidden amusement. "A relief to you, I'm sure."

Harry choked, registering the sarcasm. But before he could say anything, Riddle went on, "I wanted to speak with you about the conversation you had with your...Quetzalcoatl."

Harry glanced at Aetas, wondering if he should tell Riddle about the familiar bond. A subtle shake of the head dispelled any ideas. "Er, okay."

"What did Dumbledore do to you that made you think it was your fault?" Riddle pressed. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "You do not have to answer all of the questions I will ask you, but please attempt to at least answer one."

Inwardly, Harry winced. The most complicated question had to have been asked first. However, he noted with relief, Riddle didn't seem to have heard the whole conversation with Aetas. At least that wasn't an issue. After a moment's contemplation, he decided to stick to the truth as close as he could. "He told me I would be secure, but something happened, and I wasn't. I was...injured because of it."

 _Seven scars a day, some healed, some didn't, permanent marks of torture, wood cracking underneath his fingers, glass shattering, smoke and ashes..._ Harry forcefully pushed the images and thoughts away, locking them deep in his head.

Riddle nodded thoughtfully, not missing the wild look in Harry's eyes. "And how was this your fault?"

"I, er, indirectly caused the thing that had happened, even though I shouldn't have been able to." Harry felt the onslaught of images threaten to appear again, and redoubled his efforts to keep them locked away.

"I see. Moving on, Mr Potter, how much do you know of the war?" Riddle inquired.

Harry hesitated. "Not - not much, Professor. At least, not an amount I would have liked."

"Ironic, that," Riddle mused. "The person that was one of the catalysts of this war doesn't know much of it."

Harry's heart stuttered. _He_ had caused this dimension's war? "I don't understand."

"You see, Mr Potter, the division of beliefs between Dumbledore and Grindelwald and I was one of the things that caused this war. They believed in things that were morally different than I."

The room suddenly seemed too small. _Grindelwald_ was alive? Didn't - didn't Dumbledore defeat him? _Ah, but Dumbledore is different here, Harry. He's not necessarily fighting for what is right anymore,_ a small voice reminded Harry. That meant -

That meant Tom Riddle was fighting for what was right. That meant Dumbledore had teamed up with Grindelwald, the Dark Lord, somehow, and was not fighting for the right beliefs.

This conclusion sent Harry's world spinning. He struggled to understand _why_ , because Dumbledore was _good._ Even though he had wronged Harry, the man tried to do the right things. Aetas had pointed out that he was not infallible, but he still fought for the right side, the good side. What had happened?

"You were another catalyst, because of a prophecy that implied you were destined to end this war or doom the wizarding world," Riddle continued. Harry blinked out of his shock, then cursed in his head.

 _Of course_ he was the subject of a prophecy here too. Fate liked to play with him a bit too much. But then it dawned on him. If he was destined to end this war or doom the wizarding world, then that meant that Dumbledore had meant for Harry to kill Riddle. Kill the leader of a side that was fighting for what was right.

Obviously, Dumbledore was fighting for what he believed was the right thing here. If that meant using someone else to kill his opposition, then he would do it. Harry could understand that - after all, Voldemort and the Death Eaters believed that blood purity was a priority, and they would go to great lengths to make sure they were heard. But shouldn't Dumbledore have realized that what he was proposing wasn't right, whatever it was?

If there was any doubt in Harry's head that Dumbledore was still inherently morally good here, it was dashed in that moment.

"Dumbledore didn't want to tell you, did he?" Riddle asked ruefully.

Those words echoed the thoughts of Harry before he had been taken by Voldemort. Dumbledore hadn't told him the prophecy until Sirius had died. Perhaps if Sirius hadn't died, if the whole disaster at the Department of Mysteries hadn't happened, then it was possible that Dumbledore wouldn't have told him until it was time for him to kill Voldemort.

"No," Harry answered grimly. It was true in both dimensions, he realized. Except for the fact that Dumbledore hadn't tried to manipulate his life as much, both Dumbledores were acting on the words of prophecies.

Riddle remained silent for a moment, as if deciding something. Then, he said, "Allow me tell you a story. It began like this: Dumbledore had been sorted into Gryffindor, as I'm sure you already know, and I into Slytherin.

"Slytherins are cunning, ambitious, anchored toward self-preservation...We do not belong in the world of bravery, intellect, and loyalty. To the wizarding public, Slytherins aren't honourable, or human. We are callous monsters. I suppose that was the reason why most turned to Dumbledore, because he was a prodigy, a shining star, a _Gryffindor_. But then he met Grindelwald, and the great Albus Dumbledore became questionable, to those who were not blinded by their awe and loyalty to him. Slytherins, in particular, noticed a change in his attitude - he began saying that wizards should rule over the Muggles, simply because we had power and with power came responsibility. We were responsible for the people who were considered lower than us, and that appealed to many. It was simply a better way of saying that wizards were better than Muggles and that we should rule them.

"By the time some had realized what was going on, Dumbledore had established a power base and was touted as the greatest wizard of all time. No one dared to oppose him for fear of their lives. But I couldn't simply step back and watch. This wasn't right. So I gathered followers, though we are much fewer than Dumbledore's, and fought for the Muggles. Don't get me wrong; I do not condone Muggles, especially when most treated me with disdain due to my family history, but when their very rights and freedoms are being imposed upon, that is not right, and Dumbledore cannot say that he can, simply because he is more powerful.

"I am not portrayed as the hero here, but do not mistake me for one. I'm simply doing what is morally right, because those Muggles were much like my younger self - rights taken, and freedom confined. Perhaps they would lash out, like I had done, and start a war. We cannot risk that kind of thing. Dumbledore and Grindelwald may think they know what they're doing, but they only see the Muggles they want to see, which is helpless, yet delightful people.

"Mr Potter, you have been blinded by your trust in Dumbledore. You have been manipulated and your whole life has been guided. Your Quetzalcoatl was right; Dumbledore wronged you, and it is not your fault. Whatever horrendous thing he had done to you, it was not right. Details are not needed, and you do not have to share them should you not wish to do so. Just think about my words, and that is all I ask."

* * *

Anguis - Latin for serpent, snake, dragon.

A/N: Well, that's the second chapter. All mistakes are mine, yada yada yada, and I hope you enjoyed it! Leave a review, if you wish. If not, that's cool too.


	3. A Riddle and a Snake

A/N: For anyone wondering, a Quetzalcoatl is also referred to as an Occamy. Sorry, I probably should have put that at the beginning of this story, but it's here now. And also, pairings are not being considered at this moment because I'm terrible at writing romance and I don't want to subject you guys to that. Trust me, it's awful.

Disclaimer: Why, I'm just a little wee user named 'Wolf and Phoenix'. Surely, you don't believe that I own Harry Potter?

* * *

"Call off your Quetzalcoatl, Mr Potter," Riddle ordered coldly. His smooth, refined voice echoed slightly off the smoky grey walls of the bare training room. The man was on one side of the room, facing Harry, and Aetas was tensely coiled in the middle, blocking Harry from view.

Aetas hissed in response, exposing his wickedly sharp, pointed fangs. His wings fluffed up, making the snake look much bigger and menacing.

" _ **Aetas, calm down,"**_ Harry whispered urgently.

" _ **This human attacked you and now you're inviting him to do it again?!"**_ Aetas demanded, disbelieving the utter stupidity of his human companion.

" _ **That human is standing right here and will be the only thing keeping your owner alive,"**_ Riddle snarled, looking quite annoyed. " _ **Dumbledore hasn't taught him anything useful, Quetzalcoatl. He will most likely be dead by the end of the month."**_

Aetas' wings flared. " _ **And how, exactly, are you going to keep Harry alive if you're the one attacking him?"**_

Harry simply stood there, mouth agape, watching Tom Riddle and a Quetzalcoatl engage in a fiery debate. Never, in all the time he had spent here so far, would he have imagined that this would happen. And he had spent a whole lot of time thinking and imagining.

The green-eyed teen had thought about Riddle's words, mulling over them and dissecting them to pieces. Eventually, he had accepted that Dumbledore didn't have the best intentions in this dimension - though, admittedly, it had taken him a long, long time. There were a whole lot of parallels between the two dimensions, he had realized. The biggest one was his blind trust in Dumbledore, which was apparently true in both worlds.

Riddle wasn't the bad guy here (although, if it was this-dimension Dumbledore speaking, that wouldn't be true), unlike Voldemort. Whatever had happened to Riddle, it hadn't happened to Voldemort, and that had altered the man's path. Voldemort was out murdering people and trampling on the rights of Muggle-borns, even though he himself was a hypocritical half-blood. Riddle, on the other hand, didn't condone Muggles but didn't exactly hate them all either. Just the ones that had wronged him, and that was understandable.

Harry was still stuck on the fact that it was utterly _bizarre_ that Riddle was cordial towards him. After listening to Voldemort for years, it was unnerving to hear the polite words, "Have a good night, Mr Potter," come out of Riddle's mouth.

The war was a big question mark in Harry's books, however. Questions swirled around his head, quick and dizzying, like his brain had been put into a salad spinner. The most prominent one the ideologies of both sides. What was Dumbledore fighting for? Riddle said that he had been fighting to do the right thing - but what, exactly, was that? And where did that put Harry?

He had answered that last question easily: with Riddle. Neutrality was not an option, particularly due to the prophecy that applied to him here.

He wasn't going to 'go back' to Dumbledore - not when Riddle believed that the man was capable of torture. And he certainly wasn't going to be in the presence of Grindelwald. There was no way Harry could become a spy, either; two brilliant minds would see right through the illusion and tear him to pieces. No, the only relatively safe place was with Riddle.

That had brought on another question: was he going back to Hogwarts? Riddle had basically confirmed that Hogwarts did exist here, but what was Harry's role in the school? And was Dumbledore still Headmaster? If he was, the chance of Harry going to Hogwarts was slim to zero. It was like putting a sheep into a wolf's den.

Plus, he didn't know enough about this-dimension Harry. He couldn't possibly infiltrate a world without knowing the characteristics of his dimension twin. Was he outspoken about the war, or anything else? Harry hoped to Merlin this-dimension Harry wasn't.

Harry shook himself out of last night's thoughts. Riddle and Aetas were still arguing, miraculously. He had half-expected there to be blood on the floor and guts everywhere. Wisely, he decided to keep his mouth shut and wait for them to sort it out.

" _ **\- training him, Quetzalcoatl. Surely you've had someone teach you the basics of hunting?"**_ Riddle asked, clearly in an effort to keep himself under control. " _ **It is much like that."**_

" _ **For your information, human, I learned how to hunt on my own. I am not as dimwitted as humans are, apparently,"**_ Aetas growled. Harry privately thought that if Aetas had growled even more and sprouted some legs and a beak, the winged snake could have been a griffin. The image of a disgruntled Aetas in griffin form nearly sent him to hysterics.

" _ **I can skin you alive with a flick of my wand, Quetzalcoatl. Do not tempt me,"**_ Riddle snapped, twirling his wand threateningly, ominous and sinister-looking red sparks showering down to his feet.

Idly, Harry wondered why Riddle kept insisting on calling Aetas 'Quetzalcoatl'. It was quite a mouthful, especially saying it heatedly.

" _ **Tempt you? Hah! Stop flattering yourself, human, and you'll do us all a favour,"**_ Aetas scoffed.

" _ **Move aside. As if your meagre defenses could possibly protect yourself and your owner,"**_ Riddle sneered.

" _ **I'll take my chances. Compared to your 'idea' of protecting Harry, I'd think mine is much more effective,"**_ Aetas glared, tense and ready to strike.

Harry inwardly sighed. Those two just weren't going to let up, were they? Perhaps he should have sent Aetas out for information on the war instead of letting the colourful snake stay.

" _ **It's called duelling,"**_ Riddle said, exasperated. " _ **And its purpose is to help Mr Potter defend himself."**_

Harry struggled not to laugh. In all his years of facing Voldemort, he had never seen the man display exasperation, but here was Tom Riddle, exasperated with a winged snake. _Oh, yeah. I can clearly see the differences between the two now._

" _ **He can't defend himself when you're not even teaching him!"**_ Aetas exclaimed, ruffling his wings irritably. Harry thought that if the snake had arms, it would have crossed them.

" _ **I'm testing him. For one who claimed to learn how to hunt by themselves, you are exceptionally dim,"**_ Riddle snapped.

" _ **Or maybe I'm not a lunatic,"**_ Aetas shot back.

" _ **The only lunatic is you, Quetzalcoatl, because you are wasting precious time by having this useless and pointless argument!"**_ Riddle snarled venomously. " _ **Time which could be spent by teaching Mr Potter!"**_

Aetas recoiled, as if he had been struck, and spat, " _ **Fine.**_ **Teach** _ **Harry. Just be glad that I'm not attacking you out of respect for him."**_ With that, the winged snake slithered out of the room and disappeared to places unknown.

Harry winced, and glared at Riddle. "Was that necessary?"

Riddle stared unwaveringly back. "Yes. Time is of the essence, and I cannot waste it simply to avoid wounding your Quetzalcoatl's pride."

Abruptly, a spell flew out of Riddle's wand, and it was only Harry's Seeker reflexes that saved him from being hit by the nasty purple light.

Harry realized, while dodging curses, that there were parallels between the two dimensions' Riddles. For one, they were both cruel taskmasters when they wanted to be. They would stop at nothing to achieve what they wanted. For another, they were both quite cold and indifferent, unnervingly so.

A Stinging Jinx impacted him, expertly aimed at his ankle. Harry grimaced, barely managing to move out of the way of another one.

"You're not paying attention," Riddle chastised sharply. "What if that had been the Killing Curse? Or the Cruciatus? Do _not_ let your attention falter during a battle, do you understand?"

Nodding a quick yes, Harry grunted as he forced himself to the ground to avoid a particularly yellow spell. It seemed that both dimensions' Riddles were also quite lethal with their spells and aim. _Just peachy,_ he wryly thought.

He looked up and saw four spells heading toward him, effectively cornering him. _Bloody hell,_ he cursed in his head, valiantly throwing himself to the left to attempt avoiding the streaks of light.

He wasn't lucky enough, and his world plunged into darkness. It didn't seem like a full second had passed when he was awoken by a scowling Riddle.

"Don't be afraid to cheat in a life-or-death duel," Riddle lectured. "Your opponent isn't going to care if you follow the rules or not."

"I should have treated that as a life-or-death duel?" Harry challenged impulsively. Immediately, he winced and mentally kicked himself. "Sorry, Professor."

Riddle's scowl deepened. "Impulsiveness should be reigned in, Mr Potter. I don't care that you're a Gryffindor - it will get you killed." His dark eyes bored into Harry's, adding, "Merlin knows if Gryffindors possess even the smallest sense of self-preservation."

Harry felt the urge to defend his House and opened his mouth, but realized doing so would prove Riddle right. Grudgingly, he acknowledged that Riddle was right, and snapped his mouth shut. All of the adventures that he, Hermione, and Ron had gone through were mostly orchestrated by pure instinct and impulsiveness. Who knew how many times they could have been killed throughout the years - hell, he, himself, was nearly killed every year. But what did he do? Rush into more increasingly dangerous situations.

It was a miracle, really, that fourth year was the first year where someone innocent was killed.

"That is enough of that for now. Take out your wand, Mr Potter, and we shall duel," Riddle instructed, yet a steely glint was in his eyes. Instantly, dread draped itself over Harry, burrowing its way into his chest. He _knew_ his impulsive slip wasn't going to go unpunished.

"This is an informal duel. No lethal force shall be used, nothing that will cause lasting damage. I doubt you are willing to go on another trip to the infirmary." Riddle laid out the rules and merely stood there and watched Harry, clearly waiting for the Boy-Who-Lived to make the first move.

Taking a deep breath, Harry quickly sent out rapid Stunners. Not pausing to watch Riddle block each and every one, he aimed at obscure spots on the older man's body, releasing barrages of varied spells. His wand flicked and swished, slashed and twirled. Wrist aching from the sudden workout, unknowingly his spells slowed to a more moderate pace, but became increasingly more powerful.

"You're not using your head, Mr Potter," Riddle commented lazily as he gracefully moved and blocked.

It occurred to Harry that Riddle wasn't fighting back, only staying on the defensive. Warily, he paused his attack and watched the other dark-haired man, wand raised, shield spell on the tip of his tongue.

Rather anticlimactically, Riddle simply conjured a flock of birds. " _Oppugno,"_ he intoned clearly, most likely for Harry's benefit.

Instinctively, Harry raised a shimmering shield, but watched in frozen fascinated horror as the birds dove right at him and straight through the shield. Small beaks tore at his clothes, nipping his skin. His hands immediately came up and protected his face, his wand dangling uselessly in his fingers. Past scars were being pecked, provoking whispers of pain by torture.

 _A flash of anger in scarlet eyes. "Very well. For your sake, hope that you'll give in tomorrow. Bellatrix seems quite eager to have her turn."_

" _Look who's here - oh, little Potter!"_

" _Your screams are music to my ears, baby Harry," Bellatrix maniacally grinned. "But I don't think I've heard enough."_

 _Pure agony, ripping apart every nerve end. Unearthly screams echoing off the walls - his screams, his vocal outpouring of pain. Wood cracking beneath his fingers, and glasses shattering, and the taste of blood, and smoke and ashes, and makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop -_

"No, no, no, NO!"

"Mr Potter, it is only in your mind. It is not real. You're not there." A pause. "Mr Potter!"

Harry's eyes snapped open, shuddering breaths uneven and frantic. Tom Riddle stood a few feet away, brow furrowed, an odd expression on his face. The green-eyed teen shifted his gaze to the ground, body curled in a defensive ball, inconspicuously wiping away tears. _I'm just a wreck,_ he thought miserably. _A wreck after some_ torture. _For Merlin's sake, I'm the Boy-Who-Lived! I've fought Voldemort, and survived, but I can't get over memories of torture? Maybe Voldemort was right; maybe nobody really cares because they've seen who I really am - just a weak, poor excuse of a hero. The one who's supposed to save them all._

"Mr Potter."

Harry shakily looked up. "I'm sorry, Professor."

"What for?" Riddle asked gently.

"For breaking down like that," Harry mumbled. "For losing focus. I know, I could have died if it were an actual duel."

"Mr Potter, I will not accept that apology," Riddle said quietly. When Harry's head shot up in shock, he continued, "I cannot, because you needed to break down. Frankly, I was surprised it took you this long. Torture should not be taken lightly. It leaves scars physically and emotionally, whether you acknowledge it or not. Take time to heal, Mr Potter, and then you can join the war once again."

 _He knew. How?_ But strangely, Harry could not find it in himself to care. It was a burden lifted off his shoulders; he didn't have to pretend that it never happened. Riddle knew, and oddly...Never, in all his time alive, had anyone taken the time to assure him that what he was going through was normal and not a sign of weakness. Dumbledore had never spoken to him like this - he was usually left to his own devices until everyone deemed him fit to rejoin society. It was never his choice, and he always assumed he was fine because everyone else said he was.

But Riddle? He suggested to take some time to go over the wounds, and then when he felt ready - he, Harry, not anyone else - he could go and join this war. And for that, Harry felt gratitude towards Tom Riddle.

"Thanks, Professor," was all he could manage. Riddle seemed to understand, and even sent a small smile, one that made the dark-eyed man seem younger and carefree. He was about to depart from the room when Aetas slithered in.

" _ **What did you do to Harry?!"**_ The Quetzalcoatl demanded, clearly agitated. Obviously, he had seen some of Harry's distress through the familiar bond.

" _ **I did not anticipate his response to one of my attacks,"**_ Riddle replied carefully, bowing his head. " _ **For that, I am sorry for the wounds I opened."**_

" _ **Humans like you are dimwitted creatures that don't understand anything!"**_ Aetas snarled in anger, quickly moving over to Harry, who was now wearily sitting against the wall.

" _ **Aetas, back off. He couldn't have known that I would break down, and I needed to, anyway. It wasn't healthy, keeping things bottled up,"**_ Harry weakly said.

Aetas looked like he might argue, as if he wanted to chew Riddle out some more, but relented. He glared at the older man nonetheless, who swept out of the room.

" _ **You're all right?"**_ Aetas murmured, eyes assessing Harry's state.

Harry chuckled softly at Aetas' actions. " _ **No. But I will be."**_

" _ **Call for Feta. She'll be able to help you get back to your room,"**_ Aetas suggested. " _ **Then sleep. For basilisk's sake, you only got five hours of sleep the other day."**_

" _ **Do you have to keep emphasizing that?"**_ Harry muttered. Then, in English, he called out, "Feta!"

The small female house elf appeared, her large brown eyes widening at Harry's state. "Harry Potter, sir! What has happened to you's?"

"I'll be okay, Feta. Could you please help me get back to my room?"

"Of course, sir!" The house elf instantly replied, waiting for Aetas to coil around Harry's left arm. Once the winged snake was secured, she gripped onto Harry's right hand, and popped them into Harry's room in a swirl of colours.

Harry nearly toppled over, only managing to stay upright by sheer willpower. Feta immediately ordered Harry to the bed, insisting he rest as she prepared dinner. He thanked her, and pointedly ignored Aetas' eye rolling at his politeness (" _ **Death by chivalry, you'll be the first."**_ ) Not bothering to take off his sweaty clothes, he collapsed onto the soft bed and let sleep overtake him.

* * *

A/N: I challenge you to quickly say, 'Quetzalcoatl' ten times. For reference, it's pronounced as, 'Qwet-zal-co-wa-tel'. According to Google, anyway.

So! That's the end of this chapter, hope you enjoyed it! Also, I was wondering...would you guys like to see the gang from Harry's home universe? Or should I just keep this entirely Harry-centric? Let me know in the reviews.

Have a great day, or evening, or night!

~Wolf and Phoenix


	4. A Snake in Lion's Clothing

A/N: Thanks to the two people who reviewed and the people who followed/favourited this story! Must admit here that I wasn't really expecting anything due to the Harry Potter universe being so big and all.

Disclaimer: You know, I feel like if I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be here. Do you get that feeling, too? 'Cause you should.

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Harry had been practicing a spell against a dummy when the thought struck him.

He didn't know the date.

It was such a simple thing that Harry had completely forgot about, and now that he remembered dates existed, well...that would solve his problem of not knowing how long he had been in captivity, wouldn't it?

"Feta!" Harry called, ceasing his efforts to conjure birds and making them attack the dummy, the task Riddle had set him about an hour ago. He had been making decent progress, as far as he was concerned - small, yellow canaries with a few malformed wings had come out of his wand a few minutes ago.

The small house elf appeared out of thin air with a _crack_. "Harry Potter, sir?"

"Feta, do you happen to know the date?"

The house elf tilted her head thoughtfully, lightly bouncing on her toes. "'Tis the first day of October, sir."

Harry's heart skipped a beat, and he felt the blood drain out of his face. _October? Bloody hell, October?!_ "Do you know the date when I first arrived here?" His voice was unknowingly tense.

Feta blinked owlishly, her fingers twisting together anxiously. "Feta thinks the 27th September, Harry Potter, sir."

Noticing her nervousness, he softened his voice and said, "Thanks, Feta."

She smiled toothily at him, bowed and disappeared with a _crack._

Harry's knees shuddered and shook, no longer able to keep him up. Slowly, he sunk to the floor, drawing in shaky breaths. It felt as if a ghost's touch had trickled against his skin, cold and clammy and raising goosebumps. _Two and a half months._ Two and a half months _. For two and a half months, I was in Voldemort's lair. I was tortured. I was taunted. I was interrogated. And then I came here._

His brain threatened to transport him into his memories, but he shoved those events away. Oddly, he felt angry. Why had it taken him so long to get out? Was it because he just couldn't stand the pain anymore? Had he reached his breaking point?

Or was it because he had instinctively held on to the belief that someone would rescue him?

Frustrated with himself, he snarled aloud, "I am _not_ dependent!"

The walls' silence answered him, condemning him.

A growl issued out of his throat, his fist slamming the ground. The pain unnoticed, Harry gripped his wand, waving and flicking it to conjure six perfect yellow canaries, snapping out, " _Oppugno!"_

The fact that he had conjured the birds as easily as breathing air should have alarmed him. After all, he had spent an hour struggling to just conjure one. But he felt nothing except dark satisfaction as he watched the birds plunge at the dummy, pecking and nipping and clawing. They only disappeared once the dummy was sporting numerous injuries. By that time, Harry was breathing heavily as he looked over the damage.

A feeling akin to horror washed over him as he realized he - he had attacked the dummy and felt nothing but pure, dark satisfaction. Satisfaction that he had managed to ravage the dummy to the extent that he had. This wasn't him, this was something…

Something Voldemort would do.

Even though he knew that the dummy wasn't a real person, who was to say that he wouldn't do that to a living, breathing human? Who was to say that he wouldn't channel the same amount of frustration and anger and _hate?_ (Because he knew deep down that he hated himself for being so dependent and weak. He hated himself because he had managed to defend against hard-hitting Dudley and his friends since he was old enough to walk but he couldn't defend himself against people now?)

It was such a simple spell, but...simple things could quickly grow into bigger and more complicated situations. What if he lost control and killed someone? What if he was turning into Voldemort? This dimension didn't have one, after all, so who was to say he wouldn't become the Dark Lord here?

Harry closed his eyes, his body shuddering. There was no one here to say otherwise. Aetas was far away, having been sent out to collect information about the war. Ron and Hermione were in an alternate dimension. Sirius was dead.

A wand clattered to the floor.

* * *

"Mr Potter, if I could have a word?" Riddle requested. It was early afternoon, the fall weather making the potions lab chillier and damper.

Harry looked up from his potion, inwardly wincing at the colour. Riddle glanced at it and simply said, "Add the juice of one more Sopophorous bean, then stir seven times counterclockwise and one time clockwise. Focus, Mr Potter."

Doing as he was told, Harry watched in surprise as the potion immediately turned into the pale colour it was supposed to be. The Draught of Living Death was the most complex potion he had ever done, and Riddle had no qualms about leaving a sixteen year old alone to brew a potentially dangerous potion.

"Do you know why, Mr Potter?" Riddle inquired casually, almost as if he was asking about the weather.

Harry thought for a few moments, and replied hesitantly, "The juice of a Sopophorous bean could remove someone's memory. Twelve is not enough to counteract the effects of the sloth brain. Stirring counterclockwise helps eliminate the toxic effects of the potion, and stirring once clockwise produces the right...colour."

Riddle raised an amused eyebrow. "Stirring once clockwise helps extend the potion's potency. I suggest you write all this down, Mr Potter."

Hastily, Harry reached for the bound, black journal and the Muggle pen lying on top of it. Riddle had insisted Harry keep a Potions journal, but for the life of him, the green-eyed teen couldn't figure out why. He wasn't going to be a Potions Master, so what was the point? Nevertheless, he had done as he was told; after all, none of Riddle's suggestions had gone wrong. Yet.

"Now, the potion needs to simmer for an hour. It is half past one." Riddle seemed to assess Harry, who was warily watching the man. He hadn't eaten lunch, and if the ominous tone the man used was any indication, he knew Riddle was thinking of something. The Boy-Who-Lived hadn't forgotten what had happened the day before.

" _Mr Potter." This turned Harry's attention away from his book. "Since you have clearly forsaken your lunch, I'm sure that you have the time to repair and clean the duelling dummies." Riddle's tone indicated that he was not to be messed with._

 _Harry nodded quickly, shutting his book and placing it back on the shelf. The castle's library was huge, a vault of valuable information that had effectively driven Harry to learn as much as he could. "Of course, Professor."_

" _Good. I expect them to be in pristine condition by the time I check on them in an hour. Perhaps this shall teach you to eat three meals." Under his breath, but still loud enough for Harry to hear, Riddle muttered dangerously, "Merlin knows if Dumbledore ever did."_

 _Backing out of the room warily, Harry fled to the duelling room, wrenching open the door and letting it shut behind him._

 _That was a mistake._

 _Immediately, dozens upon dozens of spells shot at him, seeking to reach their target._

" _Bloody hell."_

 _Needless to say, Harry had limped out an hour later._

But this time, Harry's potion didn't allow him to eat his lunch. He had been working on it nonstop ever since noon. Thankfully, Feta had provided him with a snack before he had left for the potions lab, clearly remembering how Harry had (deliriously) swore to every single wall in his rooms that he was going to eat three meals every day after Riddle's lesson.

"Professor?" Harry asked carefully. _Please don't ask, please don't ask, please don't ask._ He supposed he could bring up the fact that he had eaten a snack before coming down here, but Riddle wasn't likely going to let it slide.

"You need your lunch, Mr Potter. I need to speak with you about a pressing matter. Do the math," Riddle sarcastically drawled, unknowingly putting Harry out of his misery. For a moment, Harry caught a glimpse of a younger Riddle, one who didn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders. When he thought about it, though, he didn't really know how old Riddle was. Voldemort was around sixty years old, Harry remembered, because the Chamber of Secrets was said to have opened fifty years ago in his second year. Was Riddle around that age, too? _He must be,_ Harry mused. _But why does he look like he's in his early twenties?_

"Right, sorry." Harry rose from his seat, his eyes flickering over his potion, and joined Riddle, who was already walking through the corridors. In no time at all, the two were situated in Riddle's office, with Harry slightly bemused at the password - Quetzalcoatl - and munching on a sandwich, courtesy of Feta.

"Now, undoubtedly, you have noticed that Hogwarts is already in session," Riddle said, his expression impassive.

Harry nodded slowly, picking at his sandwich. Hogwarts would have started in his dimension, too. With a jolt, he realized how much he missed the bustling halls and the warm magical presence. Anguis Castle just wasn't the same, no matter how the floor plans were nearly identical. The halls were constantly empty and calm, the magical presence more like a guardian than Hogwarts' warm, motherly aura. Most of all, he missed his friends. (He missed Sirius badly as well, but it was much too painful now.)

 _Even though they didn't notice you were gone?_ A tiny voice sneered in his head.

 _They couldn't have known,_ Harry argued back. ' _Sides, they've better things to do than to worry about their friend that they can't even save from his relatives. It'd be pointless._

 _You weren't at your relatives' house for two and a half months,_ the voice pointed out.

 _I'm not going to argue with myself. It's been done, trust has been broken, and I can't do anything about that. Whether Ron and Hermione knew or not, doesn't matter. What does matter is that I'm in an alternate dimension and I've been prophesied to end a war or doom the world. I can deal with all the trust stuff after I manage to make it back home._

Curiously, Riddle hadn't said anything at all while Harry had been having his mental conversation. Once Harry had come back into reality, he questioned gently, "Mr Potter, do you wish to go back to Hogwarts?"

Harry's eyes flicked up to meet Riddle's in surprise. "Professor?"

"It's a yes or no question." There was that teasing, sarcastic tone again.

"I, er…" Harry thought about it seriously. Things could be very different here. Would he be friends with this-dimension Hermione and Ron? Or, he shuddered, would he hang out with people like his-dimension's Malfoy? Were they even the same people he knew?

He didn't know. In fact, he didn't know the allegiances of either of those groups, and he knew it was important to find out. But how? Aetas, surely, wouldn't hear of any of them because they were insignificant compared to the more pressing issues. The only way to find out was to go to Hogwarts, and that only brought him full circle to the main problem.

"I'm not sure," Harry finally answered, honestly.

Riddle considered him thoughtfully. "Is it the fact that Dumbledore is Headmaster?"

 _So Dumbledore_ is _Headmaster._ "A little," Harry admitted. He was still bothered by the fact that Dumbledore wasn't fighting for the right ideals. It was unnatural, and _just didn't happen._ But it happened.

"You see, Mr Potter, Dumbledore most likely thinks that you're deceased. Whatever happened to you that day would lead him to this conclusion, of that I have no doubt. However, you going to Hogwarts would thwart that theory, and it is probable that he would welcome you back into the fold." Here, Riddle paused, and his eyes flickered over Harry seriously. "I say probable because Dumbledore is a master manipulator. Coupled with Grindelwald, they are nearly unstoppable. They may not accept you back so soon, only a mere four days since your disappearance."

Harry understood what Riddle was doing. He was trying to warn Harry of the realistic dangers that would surface if Harry went to Hogwarts, something the Boy-Who-Lived appreciated greatly. The Dumbledore of his home dimension would have tried to deter Harry from going, much less let Harry make his own decision. For this, Harry's respect for Riddle grew.

"What are you saying, exactly?" Harry asked tentatively. Voldemort had hated it whenever one of his followers had asked that damnable question. Riddle, on the other hand, didn't seem like the type to. Still, he was wary.

If Riddle noticed Harry's nervousness, he didn't say anything. "What I am proposing, Mr Potter, is that if you should like to go to Hogwarts, it would be most believable if you arrived close to the winter holidays. The earliest, November, if you must."

Harry mulled that over in his mind. November. He could do that. It would give him enough time to process this dimension properly and get used to the idea of Hogwarts here. "I can agree to that."

"So you are planning to go back to Hogwarts, regardless of Dumbledore's position." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes."

Riddle, oddly, looked pained, like he was losing something valuable. "Then...I must ask you this, Mr Potter: whose side are you on?"

This - this was the moment of truth. Harry couldn't go back on this decision. While he had decided days ago that his personal ideals aligned with what he knew of Riddle's, the sudden question cast doubt on his choice. He knew, from personal experience, that the side he thought was good and could-never-do-wrong wasn't always the case. His-dimension Dumbledore, for example, had two and a half months to figure out that Harry was missing and to concoct a rescue mission. He did neither, and Harry knew he didn't, because he would have heard Voldemort say it to taunt him further. His returning memories, tucked away by trauma, told him so.

But he knew that he couldn't side with this-dimension Dumbledore (and Grindelwald, his mind added). Harry himself was a half-blood, and there was no way he was going to side with someone who thought that wizards should rule over the Muggles simply because they possessed more power. That wasn't right.

"This side. Yours."

Riddle's expression was unreadable, but Harry thought that the man was relieved. "Well, allow me to welcome you to the…" The man trailed off, then smirked. "I still haven't come up with a name yet. I do so hope that I won't come up with one such as, 'For the Greater Good'."

Harry was startled into snickering. "No, I think a nonexistent name has a certain charm that 'For the Greater Good' never will."

"Why, thank you," Riddle quipped, a mock arrogant look surfacing on his features. It only made him scrunch up his nose as if he had smelled something foul and eliminated his eyebrows, for they had risen so high they had disappeared.

Harry had to stop himself from howling with laughter. Who knew that Riddle would possess such a sense of humour?

Eventually, though, the laughter ceased and the atmosphere turned serious once more. Riddle's expression was once again fixed into an unreadable one, although a faint hint of fading amusement was in his eyes.

"So, I head back to Hogwarts in November?" Harry queried, just to make sure.

Riddle nodded. "Any earlier, it would seem suspicious that you had managed to recover on your own that quickly. Any later, and the snow would impede your progress, thus making it unbelievable that you had trekked your way back to Hogwarts in two months. Additionally, it would also seem to be too much of a gap between your disappearance and your reappearance. No, despite what I had said before, it must be November."

It was nice to hear the reasoning behind a decision concerning him. Merlin knows if Dumbledore had ever done that with him. It was usually someone else deciding, and him following because he didn't have a choice.

"Thank you," Harry said sincerely. Riddle must have understood, and sent a small smile at him. However, it darkened considerably within a moment.

"Mr Potter, there is a reason as to why I am asking you this. What I'm about to ask of you next will be wholly your decision. It shall not impact the war negatively, no matter how much you may think it might." Riddle gave Harry a few moments to process the request, and waited until Harry had given a nod before continuing, "As you well know, Dumbledore's followers greatly exceed mine. Not much of the wizarding public is able to see past the supposed sun shining out of his unnamed place."

At this, Harry held back a snicker, knowing full well what Riddle was referring to.

"So, I find myself short of valuable information that I could utilize in this war. Hogwarts is, of course, full of Dumbledore's supporters. Any of my supporters in the school are silent and cannot convey information to me without risking their lives, which I will not ask them to do. As such, I am in a dilemma as to whether or not to ask you this, but I have decided it is your decision to take it or leave it."

Harry stayed silent. What in Merlin's name was Riddle asking him to do?

"You are the supposed protege of Dumbledore. However, you and I know that is not true. Nevertheless, Dumbledore believes he needs you under his control in order to win the war, and therefore you shall be closer to him than any other. This can allow you access to some of his more secretive plans and ambitions, and may help you understand him a bit better.

"Mr Potter, I cannot dance around the subject any longer, unlike a certain twinkle-eyed old coot. Know this before I ask you something strategically crucial to the war: I am sorry.

"I am asking you to be the snake in lion's clothing. I am asking you to be my spy within Hogwarts and Dumbledore's side."

* * *

A/N: Well, there's that! Hope you enjoyed it! Fourth chapter down, who knows how many to go. Though, if I were to estimate, I'm thinking maybe twenty. At this point, I'm not quite sure. Also, it should be noted that since school is indeed starting (again) my updates may slow down. I apologize in advance.

One last thing...You know how Harry met the Weasleys at King's Cross? There's a lot of people saying that the whole thing was set up, because how would Mrs. Weasley not know where the platform is? Is it possible that she was just trying to include Ginny in the annual ritual, because the youngest Weasley was feeling down about not going?

I'm sorry, I'm just a little confused on the issue. No need to answer if you're not inclined to.

Have a great morning/day/evening/night!

~Wolf and Phoenix


	5. Ambiguous Training

A/N: Um...Hi? Sorry, sorry, I've been MIA for months! I wanted to get this out at the start of NaNoWriMo, but, uh...better late than never, right? (Ahem; halfway through.) Apologies for the short chapter - it was the best I could do in an hour. I'll try and get another one out soon (I mean, that could also mean months...)

Also, thank you so much to the people who have favourited and followed this story - sorry for being such a letdown.

And thanks to the reviewers: SpilledInk82, geekymom, and Guest (or anonymous, whichever you prefer) for taking time out of your day to write something about this story!

Disclaimer: I wouldn't use up an hour just to write this if I owned Harry Potter, would I? ...Exactly. No logical reason.

* * *

Spidery fingers held up the shimmering emerald crystal, its innate light casting shadows upon the walls, revealing the minute inconsistencies within the mystical gem. A dark frown was illuminated as the cloaked figure examined the crystal yet again.

"He is not dead."

A smaller figure, a few feet away, flinched at the cold voice. The whispering rustle of a cloak echoed in the silent, dark room.

"I had not expected he would survive, and yet…he is not the same. These flaws in the crystal; they speak of radical changes," the cloaked man murmured silkily.

A dangerous kind of silence descended. The shorter figure did not dare to even breathe.

An illuminated smirk twisted the man's pale features. "No matter. Within the next year, most of his magic shall be drained. Only the amount needed to kill that Tom Riddle will remain."

For the first time, he addressed the smaller, quivering figure, "Watch him, young one. Do not let him out of your sight when he returns."

The man's smirk became a disgusted sneer as the smaller figure quickly nodded and scurried away. Then the man was left alone with the glowing jade crystal. He considered it for a few more moments, before shoving it into his pocket.

Had there been an outsider watching the scene, they would have noticed the hood of the man's hood slip and a flash of blonde hair. They would also have noticed the multitude of crystals, much like the emerald one, decorating the walls of the room, their colours muted and gray.

* * *

"I - Professor, you can't seriously be considering this?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"I would not be asking you if I am not," Riddle responded solemnly.

A tiny part of Harry noticed how pained Riddle seemed to be. Instinctively, he compared Riddle to his-dimension Dumbledore - oh, the differences. Dumbledore, as much as Harry hated to admit it, would try and make it seem like it would be the best thing in the world if Harry agreed to spy. Riddle, on the other hand, made sure Harry knew how pained he was to even ask this of a teenager.

It was almost laughable how Harry's standards had fallen, and he hadn't even noticed.

 _Focus, Harry,_ he chided himself. This was a decision that could change the course of the war and possibly save lives and Muggles' freedom. This was something that was life-threatening and almost suicide, because there was no way that he, a sixteen year old, would be able to fool Dumbledore and Grindelwald. In a school that was run by Dumbledore, nonetheless.

Yet, oddly, he felt himself drawn to the prospect of spying. Of collecting information for the good side, the right side. He knew he wasn't going to leave these people to their fate if he could help it. _Maybe it's my saving people thing_. It was a sardonic thought, one that brought back a feeling of homesickness and longing and sadness.

The sooner he could end this war, the sooner he could go home. "I'll do it."

Riddle blinked, and Harry could tell that the man was shocked. "You will?"

Harry nodded decisively, feeling as though if he hesitated any longer, he would lose his guts and retract his decision. "Yeah."

It took a few moments for Riddle to visibly gather himself, and once he did, he simply said, "Thank you."

Awkwardly, the teenager forced a smile and shrugged. But it was as if those two words had triggered a tornado of doubts, blowing away his decisiveness. Stubbornly, he kept his mouth shut and slammed the door on those thoughts, reminding himself that he would be able to go home as soon as the war ended.

He refused to wonder _how._

"- you must understand that I will not send you defenseless into the enemy's lair. These next few weeks are critical and may be the most grueling weeks of your life," Riddle said seriously. Harry felt guilty for his wandering thoughts - Riddle was trying to keep him alive, and yet here he was wondering when he could go home.

"I understand, and thank you," Harry nodded.

The man across from him tilted his head, much like how a cat would watch a mouse, dark eyes scrutinizing. He remarked, "Your school records speak volumes, Mr Potter."

Harry froze. _What?_

"Come now, you don't think that I wouldn't keep track of the one who was said to kill me?" Riddle raised an amused eyebrow. "Though one might wonder how an average student could manage to eliminate me. Of course, it could be just an elaborate ruse to make me underestimate you, but my sources tell me otherwise."

Bit by bit, Harry's body relaxed. There weren't any expectations that he had to live up to. Not yet. Riddle was right; there was no way anyone would expect an average student, such as Harry himself, to kill arguably the most accomplished wizard of the century. It was almost impossible. In both dimensions.

"But I digress. We shall start at dawn tomorrow. Do _not_ make me wake you, for I promise it will not be pleasant." It was a threatening tone, one that reminded Harry that Tom Riddle could have become Voldemort had things not been different.

Harry gulped.

* * *

Being woken up by a Devil's Snare covered in jelly (where did the man even _find_ the stuff?) was possibly the most disgusting thing that Harry had gone through. And he had witnessed Voldemort in baby form.

To say that Harry swore would be an understatement. No, the Boy-Who-Lived created a masterpiece with colourful words, artfully using them as he tried to find a way out of his slippery situation.

Honestly, he hadn't meant to sleep in - one minute he was up, the next moment he was being awoken. He supposed part of the reason was that he had attempted to stay up until the early hours of the morning waiting for Aetas to return from gathering information.

Speaking of which, the winged snake was currently snickering at Harry's predicament and teasing his human companion. Until Harry had lobbed a chunk of wobbly green jelly at him in an effort to get the snake to shut up. (The resulting tightening of the bonds around Harry was definitely worth it.)

At last, once Harry had threatened Aetas a combined total of four times, the green-eyed teenager was free. A certain kind of satisfaction filled him as he managed to snatch his wand from the nightstand - that was located coincidentally just out of reach from the bed - and light the magical plant on fire.

"I see you've managed to escape," Riddle commented casually from behind Harry, who started, jumping a foot into the air.

"I suggest you get moving, Mr Potter, before the Blast-Ended Skrewts decide to invade the room," was all it took for Harry to dash into his morning routine. Somewhere in between attempting to put on socks while brushing his teeth, he wondered where the hell Riddle managed to get ahold of all of these...specimens.

But for all of the multitasking in the world, when Harry opened the bathroom door, he encountered five Blast-Ended Skrewts ricocheting off the walls of his (former) bedroom. Immediately slamming the door shut again, pretending not to hear the various destructive sounds, Harry sank to the floor, groaning.

"It's too early for this."

* * *

"Pitiful, Mr Potter. Surely that was not your best performance?"

Harry winced. He knew he was doing horribly. His Seeker reflexes helped only a miniscule amount in dodging spells, and that resulted in getting various bruises from inelegantly throwing himself around. Riddle had proclaimed his footwork a mess about an hour ago, and it didn't seem like he had gotten anywhere since then.

"Sorry," Harry said.

Riddle simply raised his wand again. "No apologies, Mr Potter. I must admit that I had overestimated your current ability."

Perhaps it was the casual way he said it. Maybe it was that he was so utterly tired of the fact that he didn't live up to the expectations of the _legendary Boy-Who-Lived._

The tense half-smirk on Riddle's face told Harry that the man knew the effect of those words.

And just like that, something _snapped._

Briefly, in the corner of his mind, a voice shouted, _He's just riling you up!_ But Harry, his stomach roiling with anger, shut it in a box and locked it away.

Eyes narrowing, Harry watched Riddle fire off various spells, the streams of colour arcing toward the teenager. Barely without him noticing, his feet began a frenzied dance, weaving between the spells and the rest of his body instinctively following. He couldn't focus on individual spells as they rushed toward him; rather, he watched the patterns the spells made and predicted the next move. Everything seemed blurry, much like the times when Harry took off his glasses and only saw fuzzy shapes.

Then, finally, the barrage stopped. Riddle stood there with a triumphant smile.

"Better." The word rang throughout the room.

The world turned red, as Harry fought to control the raging monster inside his chest. His blood rose in his ears, and his pulse thundered - _thump, thump, thump, thump_ : war cries egging him on.

" _Better?!"_ Harry shouted. "You purposely taunted me! You knew the effect those words were going to have, but you said them anyway!"

"Mr Potter, we have a few weeks before you enter the lion's den," Riddle said sharply. "So, I shall advise you to assess your strengths and weaknesses, for we will strengthen them all; do _not_ expect your pride and ego to come out the same way. Furthermore, Mr Potter, if you knew I was baiting you, why did you respond?"

Harry had no answer to that, but he still glared at Riddle. Childish tantrums should be a thing of the past, he knew. And that's precisely what his outburst was - a tantrum. Yet, he was still too worked up to be ashamed.

Riddle nodded to himself, then turned and began to leave.

"Professor."

The man turned back to Harry, a curious eyebrow raised.

Harry swallowed his pride. "I'm sorry."

Riddle sighed. "Do not worry yourself, Mr Potter. We all lose control every now and then. Just make sure it's justified next time."

And then he left.

Harry stood in the centre of the room, frowning confusedly. _That sounded...oddly parental._


	6. Nightmares of Nothing

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Have you heard about the two Harry Potter games being released this year - Wizards Unite and Hogwarts Mystery? What do you think of them?

Thanks to the people who have reviewed, favourited, and followed!

Disclaimer: I, obviously, don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

The days flew by as Harry studied everything from Potions to Arithmancy. Why Riddle wanted him to, he didn't know but figured that it would be useful in the future. The other advantage of this was that he had unlimited access to the library, which housed so many books that even Hermione would need decades to get through. It was the perfect place to gather information on the state of this dimension and what he might be facing.

Suffice to say, Dumbledore and Grindelwald were at serious war with Riddle, even if that had not been officially announced. Riddle's short synopsis earlier summed up all the knowledge Harry had found, which, of course, led to Aetas questioning the logical thought process in humans: " _ **How does that not make sense? You have the knowledge, yet you still research it anyway - what, exactly, was the point?"**_

Harry didn't reply, too busy scribbling away on a piece of parchment. The Quetzalcoatl slithered closer, peering at the lines. " _ **Why are you sending a message to the goblins?"**_

That made Harry's head snap to Aetas. " _ **You can read English?"**_

The winged snake's condescending look answered him, an iridescent tail flicking over the parchment in front of Harry.

" _ **Er, right,"**_ Harry muttered. " _ **Familiar bond."**_

" _ **The message to the goblins?"**_ Aetas prompted.

" _ **Well, Riddle and Dumbledore are at war with each other,"**_ Harry began, putting up a hand to stop his familiar's inevitable scoff. " _ **The goblins always prefer to stay neutral, otherwise they risk angering any potential customers that sympathize with either side. But it's possible that Dumbledore could use public pressure to force the goblins into freezing Riddle's funds. The majority of the wizarding public backs Dumbledore, so that would indicate that there isn't much business to be lost if the goblins give in to the pressure.**_

" _ **If there's a third party asking for an alliance, though, then the goblins wouldn't lose any business at all because both sides would recognize the fact that the goblins were simply trying to survive the war. Riddle and Dumbledore aren't stupid; they won't gamble with the possibility of upsetting the goblins."**_

He resumed writing as Aetas processed this. _The goblins,_ Harry reflected as he concluded his letter, _are often caught in wizarding wars. It shouldn't concern them, but the wizards pull them in all the same._

" _ **The goblin you were in contact with in your home dimension told you this, did he not?"**_ Aetas asked, stretching his wings. Harry noted that the snake had been doing that more often in the past few days, and gathered that Aetas was strengthening his wings for his first flight.

" _ **Yeah."**_

" _ **It sounds like a good plan, Harry, but you already said you would fight on Riddle's side,"**_ Aetas pointed out, cocking his head, correctly assuming that Harry was said third party.

Harry grinned. " _ **That's the beauty of it. Steelclaw told me that goblins love loopholes - and by allying themselves with me, the goblins can say that they didn't support Dumbledore, Grindelwald, nor Riddle, who are the main figureheads of this war. If, for some reason, Gringotts does end up fighting, it won't be under the command of any of those people, therefore claiming some semblance of neutrality in the wizarding public's eyes."**_

Aetas gave the snake equivalent of a grin (or at least Harry thought it was a grin...it could have been a terrifying smirk for all he knew). " _ **Cunning of you."**_

Harry paused at those words. Slytherins were cunning, sneaky, evil, and he - he was in Gryffindor. He _couldn't_ be cunning. _But the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin,_ he remembered. _It wanted to, and that's all that matters because the Hat doesn't lie._

Then was he evil?

The answer was simple: no. And maybe, just maybe, the Slytherins weren't either. Besides, depending on whichever side you looked at it, either Voldemort or Dumbledore was evil. Maybe everyone was, but no one wanted to carry the brand and stuck it to the House that a prominent Dark Lord had emerged from. Pettigrew, after all, betrayed Harry's parents and joined Voldemort - was that evil? Or was that self-preservation, saving himself in favour of others? Perhaps it was even...bravery? Bravery for choosing Voldemort's side when the rat knew that many on Dumbledore's side would aim to kill?

No. Pettigrew was a coward, exploiting the Ministry's incompetence and hiding behind Voldemort's robes. He didn't belong in any House.

Then these labels - Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw - were useless in the real world. Why, then, did these carry over to students' adult lives? Whichever House a student called family defined them for the rest of their lives. _Ridiculous, but no one seems to care. Not even Dumbledore._

So then...were Slytherins inherently evil, like Ron claimed?

Harry wasn't sure anymore. And the worst part was the feeling of betraying his parents' memory for even pondering the traits behind Pettigrew's despicable actions.

But as he watched Aetas reading the finished letter, he couldn't help but wonder.

* * *

" _Harry."_

 _Fog. Grey, heavy, suffocating fog surrounded him._

" _Harry."_

 _Where was that coming from? He turned, trying to catch a glimpse of a figure, a spirit, anything. That voice echoed eerily, taunting him with its pleading tone._

" _H-Harry."_

 _It was a man's voice, he determined. No - not man. It was a teenager, stuck in the floating void between childhood and adulthood. It was so...familiar. As if he had heard it somewhere before._

 _He tried speaking, tried to say something, tried to call out. Nothing came out._

" _Harry…"_

 _The voice was becoming weaker. He ran toward where he thought might be the source but to no avail. The previously docile tendrils of fog aggressively surged closer, swirling their flowing bodies around him. He shivered violently, glancing around. It was suddenly so cold, and his eyelids felt much heavier..._

 _No. He had to find that voice - what if they needed help?_

" _H-Ha…"_

 _He tried yelling, tried to scream for help or for directions or to simply drive the fog away. His voice refused to respond. Bewildered and slightly terrified, he shook his head, attempting to dispel the cold, the voice calling his name, the grey fog._

 _What was happening? Where was he?_

 _He couldn't see his feet or his legs. He thought they were there, but when he passed a hand over to check, he couldn't feel them. Panic surged through his veins, gripping his brain, murmuring doubts and fear. He stared down, past the seemingly missing appendages in an attempt to calm himself. The ground beneath him was dark, a void that seemed content to stare back at him. Maybe there was no ground at all, and he was just...walking on air. He looked up after contemplating the possibility._

 _And saw myriads of eerie green lights hovering above him. He recoiled, nearly tripping over himself in an effort to get away, only to notice that the lights looked like they went on forever. The fog rose, as if in response to his revelation, effectively blocking his sight._

 _He was trapped, walking over a void, surrounded by fog, and watched by green lights that reminded him of the Killing Curse._

 _Some of the lights, he saw, winked out of existence before flashing green again. Others just glowed that bright green colour, taunting him, watching him, threatening him. Almost absentmindedly, he stretched up to take a closer look._

 _Immediately, he scrambled away, tripping over his feet this time, and landed in a heap. The fog simply closed in._

 _Those green lights weren't lights. They were eyes._

 _Distant laughter cackled, the sound repeating over and over in a cadence, like words. It trailed cold fingers over his spine, mockingly kissed his ear, and reached in to grasp his heart._

" _Never yours."_

 _He screamed._

* * *

Harry bolted upwards, his vision swimming, and dimly noted the burning of his throat. Dark nothingness greeted him as cool tendrils tightened their hold on him. Instinctively, he looked up but found nothing. No green eyes staring back, no fog, no voice.

 _Of course, Harry,_ he berated himself, _it was just a nightmare._

How odd, he mused as he tugged at the blankets tangled with him. It had been ages since he had had a normal nightmare. Normally they were ruled by Voldemort or someone dying or what ifs. Not...whatever that was.

But it felt so _real_. Real and terrifying and _he was a Gryffindor for crying out loud and he shouldn't be so scared of a bloody nightmare._

Harry shook his head. _It's just the dimension travelling - maybe weird dreams is a side effect._

" _ **Harry?"**_ Aetas asked sleepily from his corner of the room. Undoubtedly he had sensed something amiss.

" _ **Don't worry about it, Aetas. Just a bad dream is all,"**_ Harry murmured, finally managing to untangle himself from the blankets, straightening them out. He tried not to notice his shaking pale hands, the clammy feel of his skin. _Pull yourself together, Potter._

" _ **What do you take me for, a vole?"**_ Aetas snapped, although it was missing some of its usual bite. The sound of coils slithering over the floor reached Harry's ears, and before he had even blinked, Aetas was in front of him on the bed, ruffling his wings.

" _ **Honestly, Aetas, I'm fine. Go back to sleep."**_

" _ **It's like talking to a wall,"**_ Aetas hissed exasperatedly to the ceiling, probably to some snake deity. " _ **Doesn't care about anything until something slams into it."**_ The winged snake glared at a bemused Harry. " _ **In this case, slamming something into your thick skull."**_

" _ **Hey!"**_

" _ **It's okay, I know humans don't have the same mental capacities I do."**_

" _ **Aetas, I really -"**_

" _ **Believe that's true? Good, because it is. Now if only you could admit that your dream affected you badly as easily as that, that would help matters along."**_

" _ **Get out of this bed before I curse you,"**_ Harry threatened, throwing the covers at the Quetzalcoatl, already reaching for his wand. He could already feel a headache coming on; quite the feat for a winged snake that had only known him for barely half a month.

" _ **Dear me, resorting to violence at such a young age?"**_ Aetas muttered in mock horror.

" _ **I'm starting to think that charcoal tinted wings sound like a good idea."**_

" _ **Oh, anything but the wings, Harry! No, not the wings!"**_ Came the dramatic, hissing reply.

Harry swiped his wand off the table next to the bed, the spell running through his memory and his wrist moving before his present mind caught up. A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he admired his work.

Aetas couldn't see his wings, of course, what with the room being so dark and the blankets strewn over his appendages, but Harry could. What used to be a colourful, breathtaking swirl of colours became a mix of greys and blacks, sure to infuriate his familiar. _And,_ he grinned evilly, _it won't come off for a whole week._

Wonderfully oblivious, Aetas hissed, " _ **Knew you couldn't hex your own familiar. Am I too lovable to do so?"**_

At this, Harry found himself struggling to hold in his laughter. Hurriedly, he draped a part of the blanket over his familiar's head and stuffed his fist into his mouth. _No, no, don't laugh. Don't think about his reaction when he finds out. Don't think about how oblivious he is. Don't laugh, Potter, don't laugh._

He tried. He really did. Aetas was perplexed by the guffaws, hissing out questions about Harry's sanity and idly wondering out loud if he should cuff his human around the head.

Eventually, Harry managed to get himself under control. " _ **Don't you dare cuff me around the head."**_

" _ **Your sanity has returned,"**_ Aetas noted. " _ **Perhaps even it needed a break from you."**_

Harry scowled. " _ **Go to your corner, Aetas."**_

" _ **Fine, be that way."**_ With a flick of his tail, the snake slithered off to sleep, his mission complete.

* * *

A/N: Good? No? Hope you enjoyed at least some part of it. As always, feel free to leave a review :)


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